


three of a kind

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Play, F/M, Knife Play, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “Yen and I talked while you were sleeping,” he said, low and raspy. “Perhaps we’ve also been neglecting you, hmm? You’ve been working so hard."“So today we’ll be taking care of you,” Yennefer finished, “You can return the favor later,” she assured him and he could hear her grin.Jaskier laughed against his ear, and he shivered. As usual, he was weak to his two favorite people. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t enjoying himself so much.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 172





	three of a kind

**Author's Note:**

> i dont usually write shameless smut, but this was requested by a supporter :")<3
> 
> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt opened his eyes, and all he could see was black. He sat up, the silk of Yennefer’s handkerchief pulling taut around his yes. Yennefer’s hands lightly stroked up and down his chest, and he could feel the lines of Jaskier’s body pressing up against his back, warm and surprisingly solid, as he settled behind him.

“And what do we have here?” he drawled, glad that there was nothing in his mouth ( _this_ time) and he could speak freely.

Yennefer hummed, “You’ve been neglecting us, dear Witcher,” she said, pausing to tweak one of his nipples. He jerked, cock twitching between his legs.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to one of Geralt’s shoulders, and he could feel the bard’s own erection already poking him in the back. Jaskier was a fairly thin man, especially compared to Geralt, but he was not _lacking_ ; the first Geralt had seen his cock, he had been _thoroughly_ impressed; it hadn’t been very thick, like most of him, but nicely long.

“I’ve been working,” he said gruffly, the truth.

Yennefer sighed, all dramatic, and draped herself across his lap. He reached down, blindly feeling her up, her thin, smooth hips, her stomach, her breasts, small and perky. She pressed a kiss to his stomach, over an especially nasty scar.

“And we respect that,” Jaskier said, nosing at his jaw, “but you can’t just forget about us, Geralt.”

Geralt almost laughed; as if he could _ever_ forget them for even a second. He turned and wished, suddenly, that he wasn’t blindfolded, just so he could _see_ Jaskier. All he could see through the silk was general shapes and outlines.

Jaskier leaned in, rubbing their noses together. Geralt thought it was sickeningly sweet. “Yen and I talked while you were sleeping,” he said, low and raspy. “Perhaps we’ve also been neglecting you, _hmm_? You’ve been working _so hard.”_ He nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip, and his cock twitched again, growing fully hard against his stomach.

“So today we’ll be taking care of you,” Yennefer finished, and boldly grabbed his cock, surprising him. He hissed and turned away from Jaskier, looking down at where he knew she was still draped over his lap, no doubt looking like something out of a painting. “You can return the favor later,” she assured him and he could _hear_ her grin.

Jaskier laughed against his ear, and he shivered. As usual, he was weak to his two favorite people. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t enjoying himself so much.

“Come on, darling,” Jaskier purred, moving off the bed. “Lay down.”

Yennefer crawled off his lap, and he obeyed without a second thought. He _always_ obeyed without a second thought. Yennefer and Jaskier giggled to each other, as they always did, and Geralt snorted, entirely fond and entirely impatient.

“Oh, sorry,” Yennefer said (but she wasn’t sorry at all, and he knew it). “Are we _boring_ you?”

Geralt smirked at her—or Jaskier, he couldn’t tell. Probably her, because he saw what looked like wild curls framing their face. They leaned down and he could smell lilac and gooseberries—yup, definitely Yennefer.

She reached down, fast, and grabbed his cock. Geralt hissed, tilting his head back. “ _Apologize_ ,” she commanded, steely, “or we’ll tie you up and leave you here all day.”

Jaskier let out a gasp, like he definitely did _not_ want to do that. He was always softer than Yennefer. Yennefer didn’t always control their sex, but when she did she was unwavering, not cruel but stern. Jaskier had a different approach; he was soft and sweet and liked slowly taking Geralt apart until he was a withering mess.

Geralt, on the other hand, preferred not to be in control at all. He had pretended for so long—spending nights with whores, all of who had expected him to lead things—but truthfully he didn’t enjoy it, not as much as he enjoyed just letting Yennefer and Jaskier take control of things.

He enjoyed losing himself in the sex, not having to think about anything.

He licked his lips, suddenly dry, “I’m sorry.”

“Good boy,” Yennefer purred, leaning down and lightly brushing their lips together, teasing him. She pulled away and said, “Jaskier, get the thing.” He heard footsteps, walking away and returning seconds later. He wondered, briefly, what they were planning—the little brats—but he knew they wouldn’t tell him even if he asked, so he didn’t bother.

For a few minutes—three, maybe four—nothing happened and the room was perfectly silent.

Geralt shifted, impatient, his cock bobbing against his stomach, leaving behind streaks of precome. Suddenly there was a hand on his leg, “Be good,” Yennefer said just before the bed near his head dipped and soon there were hands in his hair.

Jaskier, obviously. Geralt turned his head and pressed kisses, light, to the inside of Jaskier’s wrist.

“Okay,” Jaskier said, like he was satisfied. With what, Geralt didn’t know. “Go on.”

Geralt suddenly felt something cold against his ankle, poking him. Not painful, but on the edge. He almost jerked, but Jaskier’s hands in his hair steadied him, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. Slowly, the coldness moved, up, up his leg, and paused at the divot in his hip. Yennefer twirled the _thing_ around in circles and finally he recognized it as a dagger.

Not just any dagger, he guessed, but the one he had gifted Jaskier years ago.

Jaskier brushed his fingertips over Geralt’s eyebrows, not quite covered by Yennefer’s handkerchief. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, forever thoughtful of Geralt’s pleasures.

Geralt almost laughed/sobbed; he wasn’t sure. “Keep going,” he said in way of a proper reply.

Yennefer giggled, the sadist, and moved the dagger up Geralt’s stomach, tracing circles with the tip of it. She never pressed too hard, knew what to do. It felt surprisingly good, he thought, being at the mercy of the people he trusted most.

Knowing they could turn on him any moment, but wouldn’t. Because they loved him, and he loved them.

The dagger moved up his body, and Jaskier’s fingers stayed in his hair. Finally, the knife reached his neck, and Geralt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Yennefer leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead, not really a kiss, and moved the knife over his neck, over his jaw, and then—she quickly sliced her handkerchief.

Geralt’s eyes took a moment to adjust. Yennefer was staring down at him, a pleased quirk to her lips. Jaskier looked caught between painfully turned on and worried that they had gone too far. Geralt kissed Yennefer first, a brief, messy thing, before he reached up and pulled Jaskier down to kiss him, softer and sweeter.

He relaxed and kissed back, fingers stilling in his hair. Yennefer was always so patient, sitting back and simply watching as they kissed each other.

Finally, they pulled apart and Yennefer wiggled the dagger in Geralt’s face, “You were scared, admit it.”

“Hardly,” he replied, mostly meaning it. He would’ve been scared if it’d been anyone but them, but he trusted them, more than he ever thought he could trust another person—nevertheless _two_. Yennefer tilted her head, eyes twinkling, and put the dagger away.

“Jaskier,” she said brightly. “Do you want—” she nodded, silently, at Geralt’s aching, wet cock, and Jaskier gasped, unable to help himself. Yennefer rolled her eyes, mostly fond, as she moved off the bed. “Well, get to it.”

The bard and sorceress changed positions; Yennefer at Geralt’s head, and Jaskier between his legs.

Jaskier wasn’t a picky lover, he enjoyed most things, but Geralt had been surprised to learn he _loved_ sucking cock. Geralt had been with many men and women, but he had _never_ been with a man or woman who seemed to enjoy sucking cock as much as Jaskier.

It was unbelievably _hot_ , and Geralt had no qualms telling him exactly that.

Jaskier sunk down and took him in his mouth, swallowing half of Geralt’s cock with no problem. Any more than that and he had to work for it, considering Geralt was _less_ than lacking—he was huge _and_ thick, and both of his partners enjoyed pointing it out.

Like Yennefer, who took over petting his hair and cooing, “So _big_ , surprised our little bard doesn’t _choke_ on it—” Jaskier groaned, low in his throat, and the vibrations were almost too much. Geralt barely held off, not wanting to spill just yet. Not that it mattered; Witchers had unmatched stamina, even Yennfer couldn’t match up.

Yennefer grinned—she really was a sadist, Geralt thought—and tugged on his hair. “Jaskier, stop,” she commanded, and he pulled back, lips wet and shiny. Geralt groaned at the sight. “Didn’t you want to try the… _other_ thing we discussed?” she asked, eyelashes fluttering, the picture of innocence. Geralt had never seen a falser sight.

Jaskier’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” he breathed without missing a beat. “ _Gods_ , yes.”

Looking way too pleased with herself, Yennefer climbed off the bed. Geralt watched her, hips swaying, as she walked over and opened a drawer. She turned on her heels, holding something. For a moment, he simply focused on _her_.

Her long curls nearly reached her breasts, her waist was thin, but held the meat of someone healthy. Her hips weren’t too big, but perfect for her body. She was perfect, and so was Jaskier. Geralt had been blessed not once, but _twice_. Perhaps life wasn’t _always_ unfair.

Finally, Geralt noticed what she was holding: rope. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she walked back over. She hesitated for a second, and he nodded, silent permission. Pleased, she nodded at the headboard, “Arms over your head.”

Geralt obeyed silently, lifting his arms. She tied his hands, together, to the headboard. Geralt was strong enough he could easily break out if he wanted, but that wasn’t the point. She cut the rope off and tossed the rest to Jaskier, who tied Geralt’s feet to the end of the bed. Jaskier’s knots were even looser than Yennefer’s, unsurprisingly, but again—none of them were under the illusion Geralt couldn’t break out of them if he really wanted to.

It was all part of the game, nothing more, nothing less. “Now,” Yennefer purred, tossing a vial of oil to Jaskier. She must’ve pulled it out of the drawer, too. “Are you prepared to make us feel good?” she asked, brushing her fingers through Geralt’s hair, knotted from sleep.

Geralt didn’t even have to think about his answer: “Yes. Always.”

She beamed and nodded at Jaskier. They both climbed on the bed. Yennefer threw a leg over Geralt’s head, straddling his face between her thighs. He could smell her, sweet and just the tiniest bit musky, the undeniable scent of a woman.

Geralt couldn’t see what Jaskier was doing, blocked by the view of Yennefer’s body. He tried, and she stopped him, a hand on his cheek. “Not uh,” she breathed. “ _Focus_ ,” she said, pressing down. He nosed at her cunt, already wet and dripping, and she hummed, obviously satisfied. Without waiting any longer, he starts to work her open, licking between her lips, tonguing at her clit, knowing how she liked it. Yennefer gasped, clutching at his hair and tugging.

That’s when he heard a familiar wet, _obscene_ sound, the sound of Jaskier opening himself on his fingers. Geralt groaned, cock twitching between his legs. He was a little disappointed _he_ wasn’t the one opening Jaskier up—he enjoyed it, a lot—but he was too impatient for that right now, anyway. He just wanted to be in Jaskier or Yennefer, didn’t matter, as soon as possible. Soon he felt something wet, the oil, being poured over his cock.

Yennefer tugged harder on his hair, “ _Focus_ ,” she snarled again.

Right. Geralt sucked on her clit, and she moaned, tilting her head back. He wished, desperately, he could run his hands up and down the length of her body.

There was the sound of the sheets being rustled—and then _finally_ Geralt felt Jaskier sinking down on his cock, inch by inch. He gasped, pulling against the restraints without meaning to. Yennefer gently patted his cheek, “Focus,” she reminded him, “and stop struggling.”

Geralt nodded, but he couldn’t focus on _anything_. He was too overwhelmed by the warm, wet heat of Jaskier’s body. He took more and more of Geralt’s cock until finally he had taken the whole thing, and settled, taking a moment to adjust before he started moving.

“You’ve _ruined_ him,” Yennefer said with a disappointed sigh, but Jaskier did not sound sorry at all, “Oops.”

Deciding that apparently she needed to take matters into her own hands, Yennefer began riding his face, hard and impatient. Geralt did not mind; he relaxed, mouth open, let Yennefer take what she wanted, as she was prone to do.

Jaskier started moving, too, riding Geralt, hands on stomach as he lifted up, off, him just to sink back down. Again and again, and Yennefer kept grinding, down, against his face, making a mess of him. He licked every inch of her he could reach.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaskier groaned, and Geralt wanted to touch him so bad. He pulled against his restraints again.

Yennefer tugged, hard, on his hair, “ _No_ ,” she growled through her panting. “Be good.”

Geralt obeyed because—well, because he _wanted_ to obey. He enjoyed it and they both knew it. Yennefer kept riding his face, relentless, obviously only interested in her chasing her own pleasure. Jaskier followed her lead, bouncing up and down in Geralt’s lap, squeezing tight, _tight_ around him, the little tease.

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeated breathlessly, “I’m going to—”

Yennefer growled, “Do it.”

Something thick and wet splashed across Geralt’s stomach as Jaskier let out an _unfairly_ hot moan, clenching around Geralt’s cock. He couldn’t hold off any longer; Geralt followed shortly after, spilling deep in the bard. Yennefer growled again and rode his face faster. Geralt reached as far as he could with his tongue, licking her open, and she finally joined them, throwing her head back with a series of curses, “Fuck, fuck, _yes_.”

For a moment, they all stilled and went silent. Yennefer panted, catching her breath, and so did Jaskier.

Jaskier moved first, pulling off Geralt, his cock slipping out of him, wet and soft. Yennefer followed shortly after. They both moved, slowly, as they untied Geralt with shaky fingers. Geralt glanced at his wrists; they were lightly bruised, but not for long.

He scooted over, making room for both of them; Jaskier on his left and Yennefer on his right, like always.

Geralt sighed, eyelashes fluttering. He was never as content as he was in these moments; curled up in a large bed with his two partners. Jaskier traced his scars softly with his fingertips, humming. Yennefer turned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

He wanted to just sleep, or maybe even fuck Yennefer while _Jaskier_ fucked his face. But—

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

Yennefer stilled, and so did Jaskier. “What are you apologizing for?” Jaskier asked, leaning up on his elbow, peering at Geralt. “In case you couldn’t tell, you gave us both _amazing_ fucking orgasms.”

Geralt snorted, looking at him for a moment before turning to look at Yennefer. “I did not mean to neglect you both,” he said, a little rough. “I will try to do better.”

“Oh, _darling_ ,” Jaskier muttered. Yennefer reached out and brushed some hair out of Geralt’s face, stuck to the corner of his mouth.

“We were just messing with you, setting the scene,” she said, soft for her. “You do not neglect us, Geralt.”

Geralt was surprised by the relief blooming in his chest, warming him. “Okay,” he said gruffly. “Good.”

Jaskier leaned down and nosed at Geralt’s jaw while Yennefer leaned in and kissed him, brief and sweet. An oddity for her, but not unheard of. After that, they all settled back down; Geralt with his arms around both of them, holding them close.


End file.
